Orion's Heir
by Yautjan
Summary: Discontinued.
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own Pok****émon Diamond or Pearl or Platinum or the series in general, but I do own my OCs. **

The quiet stirring of ocean broke the silence of the mid-morning, the city sounds dulled by the surrounding trees and water. Canalave City was always laid back and innocent, famous for its gym, library, harbor, and tourism to Iron Island. Many called Canalave Sinnoh's paradise, and it was an honor to buy a house in its remote, beautiful property.

Lying on the roof of one of these houses was a young teenager. No older than fourteen, he stood out among the sun-bathed citizens. His pale skin—impossible to do more than burn, not tan—was covered beneath jet-black hair. His bangs were cut to his shoulders and brushed away from his face, like a silky curtain. The rest fell to his waist and was pulled back in a loose, low ponytail. His garb was normal western-sea, a long, loose, threadbare, sand-colored shirt, the sleeves falling over his hands, and a pair of black pants, two sizes too big for his small waist and held up by a thin, brown belt at the hip. His feet were bare and thick-skinned, from years of grinding against sand and stone. Beneath the black locks, vibrant green eyes, the pupils rimmed with a bright gold, watched the nearly cloudless sky roll overhead.

In fact, the only thing unusual about the boy was his hand. He told everyone the bright green and gold mark—running from the base of his right middle finger to the joint of his elbow—was just an odd birthmark. A _very_ odd birthmark. But after fourteen years of living in Canalave, no one really noticed the heir to the Novae name's distinguishing mark.

A smile curled across his face as a flock of Starlys fluttered across the sky, their shadowed forms flicking across the sun's bright, imposing rays. Oh, how he wished his mother wasn't such a nervous woman. The lust for adventure swam beneath his flesh, but his mother constantly forbade him to catch a Pokémon and become a trainer, even if it was probably the boost he needed to satisfy that craving of action.

"Sorën! Sorën!" He sat up, as a tall, spiky-haired blonde boy, dressed in a purple t-shirt and blue jeans, ran into the clearing of the Novae household. "Sorën Novae, what are you doing on the roof again?!"

The raven-haired boy shrugged. "Getting a tan?"

The blonde furrowed his brow. Everyone knew him as Damien Agarn. Most people even believed his name _was_ Damien. Only his family and best friend—Sorën Novae—knew that his real name was Darubianus. A long and tedious name, Damien had said one day. "You're such a liar, Sorën! You don't tan, you're always whining about that!"

Damien was only a year older than Sorën, but sometimes he acted like his father. But his real father had died in a sailing accident when the raven-haired boy had only been six. A frown crossed his face as Damien waited for a response.

"I'm just watching the sky," Sorën replied. "Watching, waiting, hoping, praying." He pulled his knees to his chest and rested his chin on his arms, silent as Damien rolled his eyes and climbed up the stonework to join Sorën. "Waiting for something exciting to happen in our lives," he added as his friend sat next to him.

"Want me to shove you off the roof?" Damien suggested. "That'd be exciting."

Sorën wondered what Damien would look like as a splat on the grass. "Yeah, exciting for my Mom. She'd be freaking out so bad, then she'd be dragging me off to the local hospital and putting me in with internal injuries and broken bones and a concussion and whiplash…"

"I get it, Sore-n!" Damien dodged Sorën's fist. "Sorry! Sorry, sorry, sorry. Really." He waited until the younger boy had resettled before speaking again. "Sorry, forgot, your bullied name, the likes…"

"You're such a horrible friend, Damien." But Sorën was smiling. He turned his gaze to the sky again. "So, you see the report on the Red Gyarados?" he asked casually, changing the subject.

Damien yawned audibly. "Yep. I was watching it with lunch. Then I ran over to see if you were still alive." He punched Sorën lightly in the shoulder. "Hey, what if there are other odd-colored Pokémon out there? You know, maybe a purple Starly, or a green Gastrodon?"

Sorën's eyes widened at the idea. "But…we don't have any Pokéballs! And my Mom doesn't want me to wander among wild Pokémon—"

"Oh, live a little!" Damien cried, thumping Sorën on the back. "Come on, let's go find a weird Pokémon!" Without waiting for consent, Damien scrambled off the roof, down to the grass, and turned, waiting for his friend to follow.

Sorën cursed, then stood and followed Damien to the ground. "You know, if my Mom catches us, I'm blaming you!" Damien laughed, and ran into the woods that surrounded the large house, Sorën right on his tail.

*

The two boys summated a fallen log, sweat pouring down their faces and their hands and feet grimy from dirt. "Wow," Damien panted, sitting on the rotting wood. The forest was filled with creatures, and it was taking everything they had to avoid the wild Pokémon.

Sorën just jumped over the log, and turned to face Damien. "Damien Agarn, you better know where we're going!" he accused, reaching up to touch one of the scratches across his cheek, from the stray branches. "If my Mom comes home from work, and I'm not there or at your house or even in the city, she'll go berserk!"

"Don't sweat it!" Damien insisted, pushing a strand of damp, blonde hair out of his face. "I'm the master of direction, Sorën, we'll get home good and in tact and on time."

"Live in fantasy," Sorën muttered angrily, turning to look ahead. "If we find the ocean, we can wash off, and follow the shoreline home to Canalave. Then we can just say we were playing on the beach."

"Little young there?" Damien stood to knock the fourteen-year-old on his skull. "Helloooo? Good, you're alive," he added as Sorën's death glare. "We've gotta hope there's some kids down there, then we have an excuse."

"Fifteen going on seventy," Sorën moaned, rolling his head in sync with his eyes. "Come on, let's hurry outta here!" He grabbed Damien's sleeve and pulled him forward, deeper into the forest. _Where the wild things are_, Sorën joked bitterly.

His bare feet sunk into the decaying leaves scattered across the ground, and puddles of mud from the constantly damp environment. Twigs snared at his shirt and hair, branches scratched his skin, drawing one or two drops of blood that slithered down his jaw line, streaks that were quickly brushed away by foliage. "Damien, I hate you," Sorën complained.

Damien heard the comment at least seven times a day, and took no notice of it. "I think I can smell salt, Sorën!" he said instead. "The ocean! We're almost out!"

"Good," Sorën replied gruffly. "I don't want to find myself in an unfamiliar location just yet. Maybe if my Mom decides she wants to fly off to the eastern sea on vacation."

"Like that'll ever happen," the boys mumbled in unison. Sorën clambered over another fallen tree, barely noticing as the bark bit into the soles of his feet. Fourteen years of life made him resistant to minor things like tree bark.

Damien looked even more comfortable among the forest that Sorën did. Then again, the latter was always mad and worried about upsetting his over-bearing mother. Ever since his father's death…

The thought was startled out of Sorën as he crashed into Damien's back, the blonde having stopped. "What the hell, Damien?" he demanded, peeling himself off to stand next to his friend. "Is…"

"Look." Sorën followed Damien's gaze to a break in the trees. The glistening, azure ocean was visible, the faint sounds of breaking waves filling his ears. In the distance, Iron Island was prominent, towering like a ragged cone above the blue. Black smoke billowed off the island, as though someone was burning wood and dirt. And then it disappeared.

Sorën didn't realize Damien was running towards the sea until the bigger boy turned around and smacked Sorën upside his head. "Come on!" Damien snapped. "Let's go find out what that was! It'll be a great adventure to tell the younger kids about!"

_Adventure_. The word coursed through Sorën's veins like fire. His hands shook beneath the sleeves, his heart pounded against his chest, and a new energy found its way into his legs. Before Damien could say another word, Sorën's trance was broken, and he took off, feet digging into the mud for better traction as he ran for the beach. "Hurry up, Damien, you _kröte_, we've gotta hurry, or we'll never find out what's going on!"

Damien grumbled under his breath. _Kröte. _That had to be one of Sorën's favorite insults. And he didn't even know what it meant! Stupid Sore-n, with his weird words and weird hair and weird birthmark… Why were they friends again?

"Hey!" Damien yelled as Sorën jumped a rock and disappeared from view. He ran to the edge of the rock, and was met by a sheer cliff, that fell twenty feet to the beach below. Dread filled him. What if Sorën had gone off the side of the cliff and fallen to his death? Damien cursed himself for letting his best friend escape his sight, a brotherly urge to protect a little sibling rushing through him. "Sorën!! Sorën, where are you?!" There was no response. "Sorën!"

"BOO!" Damien nearly smashed face-first into a tree, almost comically. The sound of his ears ringing and the sea beating on the shore was broken by Sorën's laughter. "Gotcha!" Sorën snorted, bracing himself against the rock to not fall over.

"Dammit, Sorën!" Damien peeled himself off the tree, and stood strait, red-faced. "I thought you'd fallen off!"

The younger male just grinned, and raised his hands, palms facing forward. "Who the hell do you think you're dealing with, Darubianus?" _Voted unanimously best snake hybrid in the fourth grade_, Damien thought sourly. _I hope that _kröte _or whatever falls and breaks his ankle._

"Awww, cheer up, Damien," Sorën pouted when he realized his friend was not finding it funny. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? Call it my revenge for you hitting me earlier."

Damien sighed, and shrugged his anger off. Friend couldn't stay mad forever. "Bah, yeah, but next time, you're getting a fist in your smug face, Sorën." He thumped Sorën on the back, then looked back out to the sea. "So, we'll wash off, and then go to Iron Island?"

"I think that's the plan," Sorën replied. His face was calm and stone-set, as usual, but excitement brewed beneath his skin, twisting his stomach into a tight knot. "Give me a moment, I'll find a way down to the beach."

He catapulted himself over the edge again, one-armed, and landed on the small ledge beneath he'd hidden on seconds earlier. Sorën's gaze scanned the rocks, the bright green irises narrowed against the sun's rays. Eventually, he spotted a cluster of rocks that looked the most promising to get to the beach. "Hey, _stumme blondine_, I think I found a way down."

Damien carefully followed Sorën down onto the ledge. "I wish you'd stop speaking gibberish," he sighed, walking over to where Sorën pointed. "You sure this is safe?"

"Absolutely no idea!" Damien stared dumbfounded at Sorën's idiot grin, and stepped aside wordlessly to let the raven-haired boy begin a rapid decent to the ground below.

"Sorën, you're crazy!" Damien called, before following him down.

*

When you grow up on the beach, you learn to swim. And if it so happens to be you learn to swim in salt water, you learn to ignore the bite of salt against your eyes and watch the world around you clearly.

The lukewarm, clear, shallow water felt wonderful against Sorën's skin as he splashed into the ocean, letting the coolness soothe his skin. The salt found its way into some of his scratches, but the stinging was miniscule and tolerable. He waded waist-deep, feeling sand and smooth stones and shells beneath his feet, waves lapping over his chest, before he pulled his hair free of his ponytail and dove into the blue expanse, washing dirt and grime and blood off his body, running his fingers through the curtains of black, curling around him like a blanket. Now his mother would just think they went to the beach and for a swim, not into the forest for an unsuccessful hunt for rare-colored Pokémon. Bubbles swirled around his head, a dance of trapped air making its way to the surface, as he swam farther out, until the sea floor was darkened below him and fish flicked around his toes.

After a couple of minutes, his chest began to hurt, and Sorën surfaced, throwing his head back to flick his hair out of his face. It still clung to his cheeks, and he reached up to brush them away, all the while treading water.

"Sorën!" Sorën looked to see Damien floating on top of the water, arms and legs spread like a starfish to neutralize his buoyancy point. "Sorën, maybe we can find some rare Pokémon out here!"

"No!" Sorën replied. "Remember, we're just washing off so we can go to Iron Island! Remember the smoke?"

Damien's face crumpled slightly as he did remember. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Let's go back, then."

The two boys sadly abandoned the deeper water for the kid-laden shallows, running back up onto the beach and adjusting their clothes so they wouldn't slip off their bodies. Sorën pulled his hair back again, deciding he'd worry about brushing the salt and stubborn snarls out later.

"Hey, you two!" Sorën heard some kids approach from behind, and he kept his back turned, staring out at Iron Island. Surely Damien could shoo children away. "Hey! Blonde guy," said one of them as they ran up. "Is that your girlfriend?"

_Girlfriend_?! Sorën spun on the spot, turning to face the quartet of bathing suit clad youth. "Girlfriend?!" he echoed, his voice clearly deep and masculine. "Who the hell do you brats think you are?"

"S-sorry!" the boy who had asked the question cowered. "I just thought…the hair…"

"CAN'T A GUY HAVE LONG HAIR?!" Sorën roared back, face scrunched in fury. Damien, having stepped back to observe the conflict, was used to Sorën's tempers, but his angry face was really something to be terrified of. If you didn't know how to calm the guy down, you were pretty much screwed.

"Ah! It's a monster!" one of the little girls screamed, and the children fled the spot, crying for their Mommies and Daddies.

Sorën took a full minute to fume, and then regain his composure. "I hate kids sometimes," he decided, looking to Damien. The thoughts of Sorën's feminine hairstyle ran through his brain, and he just nodded, a childish fear that Sorën could actually read his mind and decipher his agreement with the kids' comments. Sorën really did need to trim his hair.

The raven-haired boy shrugged. "Anyway, let's go. We don't know if we'll even be able to catch a ship to the island if someone else saw the smoke." At Damien's replying nod, Sorën took running, his wet feet covered in hot sand, towards the harbor, the blonde on his tail.

*

"Iron Island?"

Sorën scowled at the sailor. They had run into town, sand-covered and dripping ocean water—much like many sailors did—and then they were questioned for wanting to go to the island. "It's a school project," he said, fighting to keep his temper. "We're going to observe the wildlife on the island, see what the Pokémon do when they aren't being threatened, the likes."

"But, you're Ai's boy," the sailor said. "The Novae kid. She says—"

"Look, we'll be fine," Damien interrupted. "We're not going to get into any fights, so don't tell our parents, okay? We _need_ to do this to pass our class!"

The sailor relented, the calm, blue waters beyond the bridge tempting and overpowering him. "Alright, then. But come back before sundown, understood? I've got a family too." Sorën and Damien coughed up the money for the trip's fee, and in minutes they were chugging cheerfully out of Canalave harbor and towards the cone-shaped Iron Island.

"What do you think happened out there?" Damien's voice drifted over the boat's engine, and Sorën looked over his shoulder to see the blonde leaning against the starboard hull. "On Iron Island. Why was there smoke?"

"Maybe it was one of the Pokémon letting off some steam?" Sorën replied. "I read some Pokémon self destruct to escape fights, maybe that was one?" Damien shook his head, and Sorën bit his lip. "Aren't there people working in the island's mine? Maybe they just had a problem…"

"Didn't you see it?" Sorën blinked as Damien spoke.

"See what?"

"The shooting star."

"…Shooting star?"

"Yeah. When the smoke was rising, a shooting star came out of it and disappeared at the very top of the island. Maybe the star caused it?"

"Stars don't fall from the sky," Sorën replied matter-of-factly. "They're thousands of millions of miles away. It said so in the library. Usually, they're rocks."

"But still." Damien left it at that, and Sorën did too. The latter turned back around, feeling the ocean spray against his face and chest and arms, and let wonder consume him.

What _had_ caused the smoke?

**Author's Note: I'm going to tell you people right now: Sorën's name is pronounced "Soar-EEN."**

**Otherwise, this is my second fanfic, and is clearly longer than my first. That's only because that's how I'm dividing the chapters up. Heck, I was going to triple the length of this one, but I decided not to. Feel pleased. I will update when I can. Hopefully, once a week, if I put myself at the right schedule, along with 'God of the West'.**

**-Muse **


	2. Chapter 2

**I don't own Pokémon Diamond or Pearl or Platinum or the series in general. From now on, I'm going to expect that you people know this.**

**Also, the story's rating is going to start coming through.**

Sorën jumped down to the old, rotting dock of Iron Island, feeling the wood creak beneath his feet. There was a thump behind him, and he knew Damien was down as well.

"Hey, boys." Sorën and Damien both turned as the ship's captain leaned out of the wheelhouse. "I actually have to make a run to Eutrea City, so I'll be back to pick you up 'round sundown, okay?"

"Understood, sir, thank you," Sorën replied with a smile. How long until sundown? Three, four hours? Perfect! "We'll be here, waiting!"

The captain nodded, then gunned the motor, and sped away from the island, towards the coast.

Sorën sighed, quivering with excitement, then turned to face the island, Damien stepping up next to him. The island was cone-shaped, a jagged peak of rock that crept into the sky. Boulders marked a set of narrow, crumbling paths that eventually lead to the rounded peak of the mountain. The walkway to the nearest cave was smooth from the iron mining, but above that it was a wild, unmarked world.

"So, that's the island," Sorën muttered, watching it carefully, as though it would spring on him, smother the chance of an adventure. "Look, look at how little soot is around. I think the mine's not operational right now."

"Of course," Damien gasped. "It's May. They'll be taking a spring break, to let the native Pokémon breed and continue to survive. They do that every spring, from March to June. How could we have forgotten?"

"Because we're stupid," Sorën replied. "So that means that explosion was not from a mining collapse or something. And it cut off way too abruptly to be natural. Nobody's supposed to be here, but someone is."

"We aren't either, Sorën," Damien muttered, stepping onto the island proper. "Come on, let's go look around, see what we can, etcetera, find the source of the smoke."

The two boys walked past the mine entrance, ignoring the warm winds and soft howls that emitted from the tear in the earth. The Pokémon that lived in the mines were always active, especially when it was they and they alone. _Lucky bastards,_ Sorën thought. Their path almost instantly became rougher and steeper, carved by Onixes who ventured higher up. Sorën's feet slipped in the moss-laden rock, his fingers curled around the cliff face as he climbed.

"_Scheiße_!" Sorën swore as one of the rocks gave way, and he slid down fifteen feet, scraping the skin off the soles of his feet and palms. He lashed out with his hand, grabbing a plant growing from beneath a boulder to stop himself from falling to the rocks below. "Damien, this isn't safe! We're going to be killed!"

Damien, who was leading the accent, glanced over his shoulder. "Don't worry, I see a plateau up ahead we can stop on!" he called, waiting for Sorën to reach his position before continuing.

It wasn't long before they had reached the said break in the rock, a shallow slope for about five hundred feet, before the sheer rise to the peak itself. "Lots of fun!" Damien huffed, leaning against a rock for support, massaging a stitch in his side.

Sorën gulped down the salty air, looking around himself. "We'll have to get to the peak to get a full view," he decided, standing still. He wasn't as exhausted as Damien, but the scrapes on his body smarted. "But we're going to find a real way up, instead of the first path we see."

Damien didn't reply, instead watching the skyline. "Sorën!" he said suddenly. "Sorën, get down!" Before the raven-haired boy could object, the blonde lunged, grabbing his shoulder and pulling them both to the ground.

"What are you doing?!" Sorën hissed angrily, but Damien shushed him.

"There's some people coming," Damien breathed, stirring some of the wild grass near his nose. "I saw them."

"What?" Sorën pressed, but the sounds of angry shouts flowed into his ears, and he fell silent.

There were five people at least. Most of them were dressed in silver and pale blue jumpsuits, shimmering under the sun, looking rather overheated in their garb. The most distinguishing feature common to them, though, was that their hair was short and dyed teal. Leading the group was a woman, in a similar costume, but red and silver. Her hair was long and flowing and the color of a sunset, reaching her waist in curls and moving with her frame as her pointed heels jabbed into the rock like daggers.

_Team Galactic,_ Sorën realized. _What are they doing here? I thought they were hunting for the Gyarados! _

It was clear by their flutters of audible conversation they were not hunting for a Gyarados.

"I can't believe we lost it," snarled one blue-haired male. "We smoked 'em out and everything, but it still disappeared!"

"I know," said another. "It's bigger than the records say, and it _still_ gets away!"

"Shut up!" snapped the red-haired woman. "We've been looking for the Pokémon for ages, and if we don't find it, we'll flush it out again. It can't escape, we've got a barrier up that no Pokémon can get by!"

"The island's deserted, right?" one blue-haired female asked. "So no human could help take it down?"

"Precisely," the red-haired woman replied. "Although, take no chances. If you see anyone, subdue them and bring them to me. This island is off-limits, no matter how important they say they are! If they resist, ask no questions. Just knock them out. And if the situation calls for it, kill them. Now let's move! That Pokémon won't escape again!"

Sorën pressed closer to the ground as the group passed, his heart suddenly pounding in his ears. Kill them. _Kill them_. That woman was hell-bent on finding this missing Pokémon, and was willing to murder to find it.

Eventually, the group passed, and Sorën exhaled. "_Oh Scheiße, dieses IST NICHT gut_, Damien!" he whispered.

Damien stared at him. "Sorën, this situation is a little serious for you to be blabbing away in idiot-ish!" he snapped.

"_Halt die Schnauze. _I said, 'Oh shit, this is NOT good, Damien!'" Sorën growled back. He barely even noticed Damien's eyebrows jump. Sorën rarely swore, unless he was really pissed, or really frightened. The gravity of the situation settled in with the single curse.

"We can't leave!" Damien breathed. "Not until sundown! And now we're on an island with Team Galactic, and if they find us…" He let the thought trail off. "Let's go into the mines, and hang out for the next few hours."

"I think we should find the Pokémon." Sorën's tone was final, and it startled Damien. "I think we should go to the summit of the island, and see if we can find the Pokémon. They don't know the lay of the land or how to climb; we can find the Pokémon before they do. I don't think they should have their hands on a Pokémon they're willing to kill over."

Damien couldn't help be agree with Sorën's argument, but the idea still seemed ludicrous. "What if _we_ get killed, Sorën? What if they _kill_ us?!" he demanded, unable to mask his fear.

"That's why we won't be found," Sorën replied. "We'll have to be smarter than them. It doesn't matter what we do, we have to wait and risk being found. Might as well do something good until then."

The blonde hesitated, then relented. "You're paying my medical bills," Damien muttered, propping himself up on his elbows. There was no one in sight, but that could change very soon. "On the count of three, we'll run for the cliff, and find a way up, 'kay?"

Sorën simply said, "One."

"Two."

"Three!" The boys yelled in unison, jumping to their feet and rushing across the rocky plateau. Sharp bits of stone and mining shrapnel cut into Sorën's feet, and he bit back a string of curses as blood seeped from his raw heels. "I'm bringing shoes next time," he decided under his breath.

In only a few minutes but what felt like a few years, they reached the last stretch of rock, the most untamed of it all. Sorën pressed himself between the rock face and a boulder, lodging himself a couple of inches off the ground so he could examine his shredded foot. "Damn…" he moaned. "This hurts."

"Oh, shut up," Damien said in reply, looking sadly at the bloody messes that were the soles of his feet. "We're almost there, time to put your climbing abilities to the test, Sore-n."

Sorën shot him a dark glare. "I'll shove you off this rock," he threatened emptily, lowering himself tenderly to the ground. He winced as he rested the balls of his feet on the rocks, and then the heels. "Okay," he growled, teeth clenched, "Gimme a moment, I'll find a path up."

Damien leaned back against the rock, crossing his arms tightly over his chest as Sorën slipped out of sight, hunting down a way to the peak of the island. He twisted the fabric of his shirt, his gaze darting across the plane, watching for the flickers of teal or red or silver that would give away the hostile group.

Something tapped Damien's shoulder, and he let out an embarrassingly girly shriek, spinning around with his fists raised. His fear turned to relief as he spotted Sorën, who had crept up from a gap between the rocks, and was now looking almost horrified by his friend's yelp. "Sorry, Sorën, you scared the living shit out of me," Damien panted.

"How do you think _I_ feel?" Sorën demanded in reply, the color gone from his face. "Come on, I found a way up, squeal-a-lot." He ignored as Damien shot him a dirty look, turning around and scampering towards a steep, narrow path up to the summit of the rock. "Alright," Sorën said. "I think this is how this should work. I'll go up and see what there is to see, and you stay down here. If Team Galactic comes, make sure you alert me, because if they trap us, one of us needs to be able to escape and find help."

Damien was secretly relieved that he wouldn't have to make another ascent into the sky. "Not a problem," he replied, with a mock salute. "I'll get you down if there's trouble."

"Don't kill yourself." Sorën's replying comment was intended as a joke, but his smile was hollow, and his eyes strained with worry. "See you in a few minutes." Without another word, Sorën wrapped his fingers around one of the handholds, and began the nearly vertical climb to Iron Island's summit.

*

Mars was not pleased. Not that she ever was, but today was an especially bad day. She'd spent the whole morning and afternoon wandering Iron Island, hunting down the Pokémon that Saturn was seeking. She bit her bright red lip, stained by makeup, and turned to look at her subordinates. "Alright, men, where's the one place we haven't checked."

It was a statement, not a question. "The mainland?" asked one. Mars fumed for a moment, then smacked him across the face.

"No, you idiot! Higher up! Higher up! There's still the peak of the mountain to check, who wants to head up there with a toothbrush and capture the Pokémon single-handedly?"

No takers. "Good. Now come on, you dimwits, we aren't failing Commander Saturn again! Not if we value our lives!"

*

Damien leaned against one of the boulders. Sorën had long disappeared from sight, and now the blonde was alone. He rubbed his arm, chewing the inside of his cheek out of nerves. What if Team Galactic DID come? Did he call to Sorën and run? What if the raven-haired boy didn't hear him? What is he couldn't escape? What if…?

The _what if_s ran through his mind without cease, and every question asked made Damien more upset at having been left to fare by himself. "Damn, you, Sorën, I'm going to kick your skinny white ass when I see you again…" He sat down, flopping his head backwards, then cursing violently when the back of his head cracked against the stone.

"God DAMN IT," he spat, rubbing his skull. "I am NEVER coming to Iron Island again!" He let his hand fall to the ground. His finger brushed the air beneath the boulder, and Damien started. That wasn't air. There was something under. A rock? No, too smooth. A ball?

He shifted onto his knees, looking beneath the massive stone. There was indeed something under there, rusted, but distinctly red and white.

"A Pokéball?" Damien murmured, fishing it out from under the rock. He brushed some of the dirt off of the container, examining the old thing. It was definitely not recent, not by the manufacture date engraved into the button on the front. Plus, the colors were worn, and the style was slightly different than modern models. "I wonder…I wonder if there's a real Pokémon inside," Damien muttered aloud. Half of him wanted to open it, and see if there was, but the lurking threat of Team Galactic convinced him to simply pocket it and wait for later.

Not a second too soon, either. "Hey!" The feminine screech cut through Damien's ears like a blade, and he spun, only to see the Team Galactic members heading towards him, lead by the red-haired woman he'd seen from before. _Oh shit!_ Damien thought. _Those people! Oh my god, what do I do? Oh, wait, Sorën._ "Sorën!" he yelled, turning his gaze up to the island's crest. "Sorën, they're coming!" He didn't know if Sorën had heard him, and he didn't get a chance to think anything else, because the blue-haired henchmen ran at him, and tackled him to the ground.

"There IS someone on the island!" the red-haired woman continued to shriek. "Someone who can help us find the Pokémon! Bring him here quickly, boys, we aren't letting that stupid pile of fur escape us again!"

Damien spat on the ground, struggling fiercely against the grips of the blue-haired Grunts. But he wasn't a match for their superior numbers and strength, and they managed to subdue him by grabbing his left forearm and snapping the bones in half.

His scream was long and unbroken, a wave of agony searing up his frame. His throat was dry, his arm on fire, tears bit at the corners of his eyes…he'd never felt pain like this before. He could hear snapped bones grinding in his arm, feel the stray chunks of calcium pierce his flesh, and blood began to well down his arm, drenching his hand and side in crimson.

"Who the hell are you?" The woman's voice rose over his yell, and it twittered off into a whimper. "I said, who the hell are you, boy?"

"I ain't no one," Damien muttered, teeth clenched. "I'm just a kid, thanks…n-now lemme go!"

"Not a chance." The woman's words were cold and unforgiving. "You're going to help us find the Pokémon we're looking for. It'll surely come out if it sees a little brat in pain. Now, who was this Sorën person you screamed at?"

Damien spent an infuriating moment panicking and trying to decide what to say. Eventually, he snarled, "No one, 's my little brother, instinct, you know? He's back, home, I'm here alone."

The woman snorted. "Yeah, yeah, tell it to the judge." She looked to her followers. "Let's go! We're still going to check the summit! Bring this kid with us, men, we'll find this Pokémon if it's the very last thing we do!"

_Oh god…oh god! Sorën, Sorën! Oh, please hide, please don't reveal yourself…_ Damien thought, as he was dragged painfully up towards the summit. _Don't let them get you! Oh god…I am NEVER going to Iron Island again!_

*

Despite the pain from his wounds, Sorën found it surprisingly easy to reach the crest of Iron Island. He took a moment to himself, leaning against a rock and regaining his breath. His eyes focused again, his heart stopped pounding, and he looked up.

There was a small gash in the sandstone, right below the very last fifty or so feet of rock to the highest point on the island. Already, Sorën could see for miles, blue in all directions but east, where Sinnoh proper rose from the sea. Mt. Coronet rose into the sky, lost in the clouds that surrounded the massive peak.

Sorën stepped towards the small cave, curious. Was something in there? Maybe a way to the very top of the island? _I'll get Damien in a minute, I just want to see this…_ he told himself, reaching the gap and peering inside.

"Sorën! Sorën, they're coming!"

The voice was faint, but it was clear by the way the call slurred the 'e' in Sorën's name that it was Damien. His heart leapt into his throat, and he turned, in time to hear a blood-curdling scream echo in his ears.

"Damien!" Sorën took three steps, towards the path down to his best friend, but hesitated. What if Team Galactic came up? He was supposed to hide. If they had captured Damien, he had to get off the Island, and get help.

The raven-haired boy turned, and fled into the cave, praying to whatever deity happened to live in the sky that they'd be okay. Inside the cave, a jagged, narrow path spiraled up, climbing the last feet to the very top of the Island. Sorën did not hesitate again as he clambered up, ignoring the burning in his feet and hands as rock dug into flesh.

He heard shouts below him as he reached the top of the rocky column, entering a cavern that probably had not been touched by human hands for generations. It was littered with cobwebs and eggs shells, broken twigs and bones, a great nesting place for birds and Pokémon, by the looks of it.

Sorën wandered into the middle of the room-sized gap in the rock, cracks in the sandstone revealing that he was at last at the very top of Iron Island.

"Wow," he murmured, almost forgetting that there were insane killers on his tail. "This is…just wow. I wish Damien could—"

Oh, right. Damien.

Desperation returned in a tidal wave, and he spun on the spot, looking for a place to hide, panic pounding in his temples. He had effectively run himself into a dead end, and if he couldn't hide, he'd be dead for sure.

Something stirred beneath the thick layer of silky, sticky web, and Sorën turned. A tiny paw, no bigger than the tip of Sorën's thumb, pale pink in color, lifted a curtain of the shimmering white, revealing a small, cat-like face with giant, blue eyes, staring at him in terror.

Sorën could only stare back, as the creature watched him, blue meeting green-yellow, both wide with fear and haunted with knowledge they shouldn't have had.

"W-who are you?" Sorën gasped. The pink cat-thing shrunk back slightly, scared by his voice, unwilling to trust such a young and innocent-looking child. "What are you…?" He watched it for another moment, and then something clicked in his brain. "You…you're a Pokémon. You must be the Pokémon that Team Galactic is hunting for." The thing flinched, and Sorën knew he'd gotten it right. "Listen. I'm not going to tell them you're here. I promise. I'm trying to hide, so I can get help. My friend's in trouble, and…"

"Up there! I hear a voice! He must be up there!" Shouts rebounded up to Sorën's cavern, and he froze, his eyes flickering with horror as the woman's voice rose above the rest.

"Hide!" he hissed, and the pink thing ducked beneath its blanket of web, obscuring itself from view. If Sorën didn't already know it was there, he would never have guessed he wasn't alone in the summit cave. "I promise," he whispered. "I won't tell them anything. Those monsters don't deserve a Pokémon they're willing to kill over. I'll die first, I promise."

He wasn't sure why he was showing such a fierce, trusting loyalty in the Pokémon's innocence, but there was no time to second-guess himself, because Team Galactic reached his level just then, anger in their eyes and murder in their hearts.

**I've put myself on a schedule that should get a chapter of both God of the West and Orion's Heir up every week. If not, then I've hit a snag in my ability to write in my free time. Anyway, please, reviews are appreciated, and so is constructive criticism. I'm not that great of a writer, and suggestions to improve are wanted.**

**-Muse**


	3. Chapter 3

The pink Pokémon raised her curtain of spider web again, watching the scene unfold before her.

Technically, the feline-like Pokémon was an it, but her God-Given name was based from a female character. Thus, it took on the attitude, vocals, everything, of a feminine property. She had grown, as well, from the miniscule size of a grown man's forearm, to that of a large house cat. This was mostly for the reasoning that with more, larger Pokémon in existence, the more mass she would need to reproduce their body structures.

She'd been wandering over to Fullmoon Island, to visit Artemis, but then these blue-haired goons had spotted her, and attacked. So now here she was, cowering in a cave on Iron Island, without time to shift or a plan to escape.

The Team Galactic Grunts sprung upon the raven-haired boy, wrestling him to the ground, pinning his arms behind his back. The boy struggled, yelling angrily for them to release him. The Pokémon glanced to her side as someone moaned from the shaft, then flinched as she heard a hard _thunk_ from the people in the cave, and the sound of the raven-haired boy yelping as blood oozed down his temple.

"So! So, so, so!" The red-haired woman, who the Pokémon knew as Mars, surfaced from the shaft, followed by two of the larger Grunts, dragging a whimpering blonde boy, whose purple shirt was stained with red.

"So!" Mars repeated again, looking at the raven-haired boy, "You must be the one your little friend here called for. Don't you know the island is off limits?"

"W-we forgot…" the smaller boy rasped. "We're sorry…we can j-just go…"

"Not a chance!" Mars snorted. "We're looking for a little Pokémon, one who will help us conquer the very world. When it hears you and your friend's screams of pain, it'll come…it won't let you die!"

_Those monsters don't deserve a Pokémon they're willing to kill over,_ the Pokémon remembered the boy saying._ I'll_ _die first, I promise._

_I can't let two innocent people die!_ the Pokémon thought. _Even if it means giving up my freedom! I won't be a slave of these people, and I won't sacrifice these two for it!_

"Let us go!" the raven-haired boy squeaked in horror. "P-please, please, let us g-go, we d-d-don't know…we--!" He choked off as Mars stepped forward and kneed him in the gut.

"Shut up!" Mars hissed. "You've stepped into the wrong territory, brat! Be thankful if you get out of this alive."

"What?!" the blonde cried, horrified. "Y-you…m-murd…murders!" He winced as his arm throbbed with sheer agony. He twisted his unwounded arm experimentally, but got a bone-shattering punch to the jaw in return. The pain as his jaw snapped was enough to choke off his scream.

"Damien!" the smaller boy screamed. "You bitch, l-let us go!" He was shaking, his feet barely keeping him up, a twin trickle of blood running down his head and chin. "W-we don't know anything!"

"Don't you?" Mars trilled shrilly. "Then why are you here?!"

"S-Sorën, don't…don't t-tell..her…a-any…th-thin'!" the boy called Damien muttered hoarsely, his face crumpled in pain and his jaw loose in his mouth. His arm continued to bleed, a pool of crimson gathering around his sandals.

The raven-haired boy, Sorën, bit his lip painfully, then, against his friend's advice: "We s-saw a p-plume of smoke…" he muttered. "W-we were just c-curious…w-we didn't…we just wanted…we just wanted to know what had happened!" He looked up pleadingly at Mars, begging her to let him and Damien go.

The Pokémon's jaw dropped slightly. He wasn't telling the woman anything about her presence. Just…a twisted truth? Her heart clenched as Mars considered, then roundhouse kicked Sorën in the face.

"Shut up, prisoner," Mars growled. "We don't talk to scum like you. What if you're working for that traitorous Rowan? His assistants always bury themselves into our missions, cause problems for themselves…"

"Who the hell is Rowan?" Sorën grunted, spitting a mouthful of blood onto the cave floor.

"Liar!" Mars turned away. "I don't have time for this! We have to get the Pokémon into our hands, or Saturn will have our guts!" She clenched her fists, and turned back around, narrow eyed. And then, she froze.

"What's that on your hand?" she demanded quietly. Sorën did not respond, and Mars walked up to him, before jerking back the sleeve of his right arm.

The Pokémon barely hid her gasp of shock. The large, intricate green and gold mark wound its way up the boy's hand, over his forearm, ending at his elbow. To many, it was a strange mark, but to her…she knew it. She'd seen it.

Mars, too, seemed stricken, and then a nasty, twisted grin spread across her tomato-painted lips. "Well, well…how…unusual. How did you come about this mark, child?" She grabbed Sorën's chin, forcing him to look at her. "How?"

"I d-don't know!" Sorën whimpered. "It's j-just a—" He paused to cough. "—a birthmark…"

_Just a birthmark._ The Pokémon shuttered slightly, fighting the urge to reveal herself, do _something_, anything, to help the two teenaged boys.

Mars considered that for a moment, then, "Keep this one alive," she ordered, looking to the silent Grunts in the cavern. "Tie and gag him, we'll take him to Saturn and get the truth about that mark. Humans don't carry designs like that normally! Let's move!"

Sorën didn't have time to protest before someone slipped a strip of fabric over his mouth, cutting off his voice, and jerked his arms behind his back, tying them in place. He thrashed weakly, digging his feet into the slick floor to push away.

"What about this one, Madame?" grunted one henchman to Mars, pointing at the blonde boy, slumped on the floor and held up by a hand on the back of his neck.

"Use him to bait the Pokémon," Mars replied with a bored tone. "The creature tends to respond to screams of agony." She pulled something off her belt, and tossed it to the man. It took the Pokémon to recognize the object as a pocketknife. "Knock yourself out, just GET THE POKÉMON."

Sorën screamed a rebuke, muffled by the gag, unable to do anything but yell as the Grunt unsheathed the knife, and turned to Damien.

"Alright, little kid," the man growled, smiling sickly. "Scream like a little piglet. The louder and more painful, the sooner it will end, I promise. Too bad you were too curious, now…die."

_I'm done. Enough, Eos!_

_Artemis?_

_Eos! Do something, before those men kill those boys! Did you not see the black-haired boy's mark?_

The small Pokémon did not question how her friend knew. Most likely, she was lurking in a corner of her mind, watching through the cat-like creature's big blue eyes.

_Yes…_

_That's…that's _his_ mark, Eos, hurry, before I come and kick your tiny little butt into action!_

Not that Artemis could leave her home at this time of day, but Eos took the threat seriously. She closed her eyes, and summoned energy within her, feeling her power swell into something she could use.

The Grunt was almost to Damien, who had long since run out of energy, and could only watch with wide eyes as his life flashed before him.

The carpet of spider web appeared to explode, as Eos erupted into the air, twirling once in the air, her long tail swirling about her. Mars's jaw dropped, and her hesitation was all that was needed.

Eos let out a sound that seemed to be a cross between a chirp and rumble, glaring darkly at Mars. Her upper torso was angled backwards, to help balance her head and hips, her tail swinging dangerously, the flat tip flicking the ground.

Finally, Mars found her voice. "Aha…so here it is. The Pokémon." She reached for her belt. "At last. Saturn will be so pleased when we have you in our grips!" She went shrill, and pulled out something reminiscent of a gun.

The Pokémon launched herself forward, becoming nothing more than a pink blur as she darted past the necks of the grunts, knocking them unconscious with a blow from her tail as she went.

Mars screamed as she aimed, unable to keep up with the Pokémon. "Damn you!" she screamed, before looking at Sorën, who was kneeling on the ground, his captors laying on the ground, out cold, on either side of him. "Grr…I hate you!" She smashed the weapon across his head with enough force to crack his skull. He slumped backwards, stunned, his vision exploding with the eruption of pain.

Eos brushed past Mars, and turned to face her, stopping at last. She hovered over Sorën protectively, a growl tearing from her throat. The Team Galactic captain sneered in reply, aiming her gun. "You're a brave bugger. But you should know, it's too late for you!"

Mars fired the net-gun at the same time Eos lunged forward. The Pokémon twisted in midair, dodging the ball of wires, and punched the Team Galactic captain in the collar bone.

The red-haired woman gasped, and slumped, unconscious, falling to the ground with her men. Eos's chest heaved with sharp breaths. She was not used to fighting, and it exhausted her. And if she didn't tell Hades soon about their plans…or teach herself…

A whimper broke through Eos's thoughts, and she turned to see the blonde boy on the ground, cradling weakly his broken arm, sheet-white with blood loss. _Shoot_, the Pokémon thought, floating over, and coming to a rest on the half-awake child.

_Heal him,_ she thought. Her pink skin shimmered, a rainbow of color, and her paws glowed as she rested them on Damien's chest. _Stanch the pain, bring him back. Give him life._

Damien shuttered as his skin patched over, bones melted and re-knit, lost blood replenished itself. He glanced at Eos, then slipped into a deep, restoring slumber, giving up the fight to stay awake.

The danger wasn't past yet, though. The Pokémon relocated to the raven-haired boy, whose skull was cracked, and blood leaked across the cavern floor. He, too, was alive and conscious, but Eos could tell he was slipping out of her grasp. Sorën's green-yellow gaze met Eos's bright blue, and he pleaded silently, begging her to help, before he died.

_Died_.

The Pokémon rested her paws on Sorën as well. _Heal! If this child's who I think he is…save his life! Don't fail me now!_ She process repeated itself for Sorën, and he withered, unwilling to slip out of awareness just yet.

But eventually, the urge to sleep overpowered him, and Sorën slumped, out cold.

Eos leaned back, pulling off the boy's gag and bonds, then leapt into the air, watching them. Now was the time to leave. She was supposed to meet with Artemis, she should not have had qualms about leaving two boys.

But that mark.

Eos's eyes slid shut, and memories flickered behind the lids.

*

"_Orion!" Eos called, reaching out to the man. He was in his early twenties, a handsome lad with unruly black locks and green eyes, the pupils rimmed with yellow. He was pale but muscular, smart and witty, brave and loyal. The ideal man to wear the mark._

"_Orion, stop!" Eos said as he walked away from her. "Orion! Please, don't do this!"_

"_I must, Eos, my friend," Orion replied. "My destiny is to stop corruption, to use this curse as a gift. Sinnoh is my homeland, but all the regions depend on me. Me, Eos. My life has so much importance…yet so little. Let me take His power and save this world."_

_Eos pulled her paws back to her chest, watching him with wide, dancing irises. "Please…"_

"_I'm sorry, Eos." He turned to look at her with those brilliant eyes, holding out his hand for her to sit in his palm. She had been a lot smaller back then. She settled into the offered seat, curling her tail around his wrist protectively. The gold and green mark sketched its way up his forearm, the edges of the design just barely visible from her position. "You've done so much for me. Eos, I… Remember Liancha? I…Eos, my bloodline's going to continue, guard it."_

"_Orion?" But the man let Eos go, and walked away. "No, Orion! Stop! Liancha's pregnant…? Don't leave her! ORION!"_

_The last thing she saw of the man was the symbol, shimmering on his arm, and he was gone. _

*

She had failed him after around two centuries. She had lost track of the line, and never had anyone appeared with the mark. After so long, she'd stopped looking. Could she really have believed Orion's line had not preserved?

That had to be the only explanation. Why this black-haired boy had promised to protect her, almost instinctively. Why he had the same mark.

The same eyes.

She sat in thought until a bird's shrill call startled her back to reality. Nearly two hours had passed, and she leapt lightly into the air as Sorën stirred beneath her.

He sat up, rubbing his skull wearily. His eyes trailed around, confused, until memories came rushing back and he scrambled to his feet fearfully.

She raised her palms, waiting, watching as the terror and suspicion slowly slid off his face, leaving shock and confusion, his brain working to connect the gaps in his logic.

"You…you saved me," Sorën whispered, crossing his arms and huddling into himself. "Me and Damien…you…they were…you're…"

The Pokémon regarded him silently, raking her wise gaze across his lean form.

"Who are you?" Sorën asked in a mere whisper.

She straightened, and then a fluid voice filled the air. It sounded like wind chimes, beautiful, but deadly and strong. It came from the Pokémon, but her mouth did not move. She was vibrating the air, grinding molecules to make her voice heard.

"I'm Eos," she said. "But that's my God-Given name. To your kind, Heir of Orion, I am known as Mew."

**Short, lazy chapter. It's 2:30 in the morning and my brain's focused on something completely different. Bleh. Sissy Pokémon games can die!**

**Platinum releases today. I am going out to buy it. And then I'll play it. And my story will get better. And I can't remember what Mars looks like. Oh well.**

**Please review.**

**-Muse.**


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